Page 68 of It's a British Christmas

Oh, goodness. That didn’t sound promising. “Of course, Your Grace.”

The two of them sat and Eve smoothed out her skirt with damp palms, remembering to sit in that uncomfortable stiff-backed position. The Duchess did it so easily and didn’t seem to be in pain at all. Years of doing so, she guessed.

“I wish to ask you a simple question, Miss Allen.”

Eve nodded, the pounding in her chest growing to where she felt as though her heart would jump from her chest.

“Do you love my son?”

“Yes.” She didn’t hesitate even though she hadn’t admitted it completely to herself yet. “Yes, I love him, Your Grace.” She spoke more firmly. “I know the difference between us, and that you are not happy with his attachment to me, but if I were to be honest with you as well as myself, then I admit that I love him.”

The Duchess nodded. “You are certain you can fit into this life?” She waved her hand around. “Members of the ton can be brutal to outsiders. As a duke, my son can mostly do what he wants, but you will have to face people on your own, without him by your side. There will be snickers, and comments, and other ways women will let you know you don’t belong, you don’t fit. Can you handle that?”

Eve raised her chin. “I believe I can.”

“I notice you preferred to spend the afternoon in your room as opposed to joining the ladies in my sitting room. You do realize as a duchess you cannot do that. You must be gracious, thoughtful and caring of your guests. Hiding is not allowed.”

Eve felt as though she was caught in a whirlwind. Was she prepared to do all the social niceties that would be required of her?

The Duchess studied her for a minute. “There is much more to you than I had expected. You certainly do not possess the refinement and grace one would envisage in a duchess, but I believe if you truly love my son, you can overcome that.” She stood and shook out her skirts. “The modiste will be here in the morning to do the final fitting for tomorrow night’s ball gown.”

She started toward the door and turned back. “We will assemble in the drawing room in a half hour for dinner.”

Eve collapsed onto the settee. The duchess brought out all the fears she’d been battling since the invitation to the Christmas Eve ball had arrived at her home. Would she never fit in? Would Adam end up disgusted with her, and wish he’d never turned from the women of his kind to marry her?

She wished her mama were here for guidance. She had a feeling Adam intended to propose to her during the festivities, and she had no confident answer for him. She was terrified of saying yes and equally terrified of saying no.

Yes would mean plunging herself into a completely unknown—and unfriendly—world that she never in her entire life had expected to be a part of. Yes would also mean marriage to the man she loved and who loved her. Wasn’t that what she had wanted her whole life?

Saying no would send her back to the life she’d known forever. The life she was comfortable in, she fit well in, and had no expectations of ever leaving. Stating no would mean saying goodbye to the only man that had ever captured her heart.

She had to relegate all these questions and doubts to the back of her mind. She was expected in the drawing room in a half hour and worrying was only giving her a headache.

Eve held a glass of sherry in her hand, trying hard to not roll her eyes at Miss Clark as she went on and on about her latest modiste and how she didn’t live up to Miss Clark’s requirements.

She breathed a sigh of relief as she heard the familiar voice say, “Good evening ladies.” Adam touched her lightly on her elbow, a movement which was not lost on Miss Clark who frowned in Eve’s direction.

“Good evening, Your Grace. We missed you this afternoon. We thought you might be out in the woods again, perhaps searching for tomorrow’s dinner."

The other ladies in the group tittered, but Eve wished that the floor would open up underneath her.

“How amusing, Miss Clark. I do enjoy the hunt on occasion. But I believe I will leave the food foraging to the real hunters.” He turned to Eve, “May I have the pleasure of a stroll around the room before we are called into dinner?”

Before she could even answer, he took her arm and drew it into his. “Keep smiling, my dear.”

She fought the tears threatening and smiled.

“That’s good. Now we will engage in lively conversation with each other.”

“Adam—” She stopped, fighting the lump in her throat. “You know she said that because of me.”

“Miss Clark is a selfish, bitter, unhappy young woman. She finds fault with everyone and everything. Do not pay her any mind.”

“But don’t you see? That is only the beginning. The people in your world will not accept me. You will grow tired of me and begin to resent me.”

He drew her into a corner where they would have a bit of privacy. “I want to marry you. I love you. I don’t care who accepts or does not accept you. I am a duke; you will be a duchess. They would not dare disparage you once we are wed.”

He continued their walk. “I will come to your room tonight when everyone is asleep. We must talk this out. I will not have you doubting yourself.”